


The Thief

by Fable



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Leather gloves, M/M, Silk Sheets, bare arses, lavender oil, rope, soft pillows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 05:34:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5654335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fable/pseuds/Fable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is blamed for a crime he didn’t commit and thrown into jail. But he discovers it isn’t all bad because Arthur finally realises how important his servant is to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thief

A cushion, two copper bowls, and an ancient helmet flew past my nose as Arthur ran around his chambers hurling anything and everything within his grasp. I sighed.  The mess would take more time to clear up than I had available. Gaius was on my back this morning to gather a certain herb that only flowered for twenty-four hours a year. At what point did nature think that was a good idea?

‘Arthur?’

The prince stopped mid bed destroying, and turned, flushed faced and spiky haired. In an angry kind of way, he looked endearing. ‘Merlin! Thank fuck. You haven’t seen my gold thingy have you?’

‘Thingy?’

‘I locked it in the cupboard yesterday.’ Arthur pointed to an open-doored cabinet next to his bed.

‘Thingy,’ I repeated.

Arthur curled his fists and stamped his foot. Patience was never his virtue. ‘Merlin! You know that circlet thingy that’s been passed down through the generations.’

An inherited gold crowny-thing was news to me. ‘No, Sire. Anyway, that cabinet is your domain. Not mine.’

Arthur took a step into my space and narrowed his eyes. ‘But you have access to the keys.’

‘My Lord, what are you saying?’

Arthur twirled away and called, ‘Nothing,’ then added, ‘my father knows it’s missing. He’ll want a culprit whether they’re innocent or not.’

Uther Pendragon was not known for his fairness. Imaging some toe-rag selling the circlet to the highest bidder and my body swinging from a rope, I swallowed hard and said, ‘I’ll help you find it.’

*

A day later and with the circlet still unaccounted for, I was in the council chambers and on my knees in front of the King.

With no evidence against me, Uther ordered, ‘Death by rope or pyre. I’ll decide tomorrow. Take this criminal to the cells.’

Why were executions always hanging or burning? Why not suffocation after a large supper and a good shag? Anyway, the cells held no fear as bars couldn’t hold me, but if Arthur believed me to be a thief, that was devastating. As two guards, one under each arm, and with a vice-like grip, dragged me from the court, I shouted to the King, ‘I do not steal.’ Uther turned away from me picking up a wine goblet as he went. The man had a heart as cold as the north side of the White Mountains.

A voice, commanding, noble, and bloody arousing, shouted, ‘STOP.’ Then Arthur moved in front of his father and held his gaze for a long minute before saying, ‘I can vouch for Merlin. He is no thief.’

The hum of chatter died and the chamber fell silent as the courtiers held their breath. The prince had dared to speak out against the King’s command.

With his eyes remaining firmly on his son, Uther said, ‘No other person had access to the cabinet. Merlin is guilty. The sentence is passed. He will die.’ He waved his hand at the guards who held me.

As they manhandled me out of the court, Uther’s sentence wasn’t the issue, the problem was finding the thief, clearing my name, and returning to the prince’s side.

Then Arthur surprised everyone, including me, but none more so than Uther. ‘NO,’ he yelled, made a dash across the chamber, wrenched me from the guards hold, and flung me with arms flailing, towards the door. ‘Run, Merlin.’

I didn’t run. Frozen to the spot I watched Uther roar, ‘Restrain him,’ and two knights pounced on Arthur and held him firm. The prince bucked like an unbroken horse but to no avail as the heavily armoured men held him down. ‘Take him to his chambers and lock him in,’ Uther growled to the knights then to Arthur, ‘I’ll deal with you later,’ and to me, ‘you _will_ die.’

*

Scattered on the floor of the cell were two indescribable brown mounds and an old straw mattress. The only light came from a wall torch above the door and scuffling noises scratched in the shadowy corners. Sat on the stone floor and leaning against the cool wall, I examined my hands. A quick flick would be all it took to blast the bars half way down the corridor, but that needed to be my last resort. A fringe-wafting breeze accompanied hurried footsteps.

Arthur bent so we were eye-level and said, ‘Merlin, I’m so sorry.’

I crawled over to him and clutched the bars. ‘How did you get out of your chambers?’

He smiled at me. ‘The guards are stupid, remember.’

‘Thank you for coming to my defence, Sire. You didn’t have to do that.’

Arthur looked at his feet. ‘I’ll find the real culprit and get you out.’

‘Quickly?’

A long silence passed between us. Then Arthur took the bars above my hands and slid his fingers down so they were resting on mine. The contact made me quiver. Did he mean to do that? All the while, his blue eyes searched my face. I stared him, wide-eyed and slack-mouthed like an idiot until Arthur slipped his hands over mine and held tight.

‘I’ll have to go, my father will have the guards out looking for me now.’ he whispered.

My throat dried and my heart decided to stop beating as my mind ran with a many questions. Why is he touching me? Has he run out of stable boys to shag? Does he actually care about me? Does he want to get into my breeches… at last? Then I chastised myself for reading too much into a supportive handhold. However, my voice cracked as I said, ‘You have the keys to all the cells, just let me out.’

Arthur got up to leave, lifting me to my feet as he did so. ‘I can’t do that; my father would know it was me. No, the best way to save you from the rope is to find the person who stole the gold.’

*

In the dead of night, a rattle of keys woke me. On the straw mattress, I turned expecting a guard to drag me to my doom, but saw Arthur standing there instead, in the see-through nightshirt I secretly enjoyed. ‘Sire? Are you okay?’

‘You,’ Arthur said, sitting next to me, and drawing up his knees.

‘What?’

‘You. You are always with me, Merlin. I wouldn’t know what to do if I lost you.’

‘You won’t lose me, My Lord.’

‘And if I don’t find the thief?’

‘Don’t worry about me, Arthur. I can take care of myself.’

He guffawed. ‘Are you sure about that?’

I was sure I could take care of myself, and call it spooky sense but I was also sure of what I did next. Nudging up to Arthur, I stroked his fringe out of his eyes and continued along his cheek until my fingers reached his lips. He took my hand and held it and my gaze. We both knew what we were about to do, and a flash in Arthur’s eye said fuck it before he leaned in and kissed me, long, and pressing. His lips were surprisingly soft against the roughness of the hands now searching under my tunic as Arthur’s weight pushed me into the wall.

When I had the time for my mind to wander, I’d always imagined Arthur Pendragon’s kiss to be as he fights—tearing, rough and forceful. He was actually tender, warm, and giving and as his tongue traced my lips he whispered, ‘I’ve always wanted to get into your breeches.’

‘Arthur,’ I mumbled, ‘I would’ve always allowed you in at any time. Even the first day we met, when we fought in the lower town, all I could think about was angry sex on the cobbles.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

Arthur shuddered and hummed, ‘Lovely.’

‘But sex on a dirty mattress in a filthy cell is not what I imagined.’

‘Tell me, Merlin, what did you picture?’

‘Silk sheets, soft pillows, lavender oil, bare arses, leather gloves, and rope.’

‘Fucking hell, Merlin. I like your fantasies. Arthur leapt to his feet and spun in a circle, said, ‘I have a thief to find,’ and then headed for the door. He looked back and said, ‘Leather gloves?’

‘Excellent backside tanners.’

Arthur wiped his brow, turned, and tiptoed down the corridor until the shadows took him.

I lay down on the mattress. By morning, I’ll either be hanged or screwed.

*

I awoke with first beams of light coming through the barred window and to fresh hope, not just for release, but also for the ravishingly improved relationship with the prince.

*

Arthur awoke to a new face topped off with neat hair and carrying a broad grin staring at him. The boy, who the face belonged to, was watching him but his hands were busy tidying, neatening, and sprucing. It was all far too much movement for first thing in the morning. Merlin never moved that fast or methodically.

‘You are?’ Arthur muttered as the neat-faced boy sat him up.

‘I am George, My Lord. I am your new servant.’ George finished the statement with a flash of white teeth.

Arthur battered away George’s fussing fingers and said, ‘I have a servant.’

‘Not for long, Sire.’

Arthur scowled at him. ‘That’ll be all.’

‘But, Sire, you haven’t had breakfast,’ George protested.

‘That’ll be all,’ Arthur repeated in his best pissed-off voice.

George left the chambers but not before presenting his prince with a freshly baked currant scone.

Arthur threw his breakfast onto the bed, swung his legs off, and put his chin in his hands. Where would he find the thief? He was sure the lower town was full of hidden scoundrels and it would take longer than Merlin had to search every house. They’d just found each other for fuck’s sake he didn’t want to lose him now.

Movement in the corner of his eye made him reach for his sword, a lifelong warrior reaction. He shifted, sword in the air, and stared towards the corner of his chambers. He wasn’t expecting a large black raven perched on his breakfast table and picking up a silver teaspoon. The only other time he’d seen a bird that brazen was when Morgause was involved and he hoped she wasn’t this time. The raven peered at him all beady-eyed and upright before taking flight and swooping out of the open window.

‘Hey!’ Arthur shouted, ran to the window, and watched the bird and the spoon glinting in the sun, fly high over the citadel, and then down towards Darkling Woods.

With his sword firmly in hand, and his thin nightshirt flapping, Arthur made his way to the stables. He considered waking Leon to ride with him but then he’d have to go into details about his loyalty to a servant and it was all too complicated so he rode alone, out of the castle, past the gallows meant for Merlin, and towards Darkling Woods. Arthur had a hunch and his judgement may be off sometimes but his gut was always right.

The raven circled above the woods, gliding on the updrafts, and cawing. Arthur rode towards it until he was in a clearing he’d never seen before and he assumed he knew every inch of the woods.

In front of him and growing centrally was an old wizened tree, black as charcoal and bent as if in pain. Arthur drew his sword, dismounted, and approached the tree with the caution the years had taught him. A triangular hole in the base of the tree gave an impression it had legs and Arthur wouldn’t have been surprised if the tree had ran towards him, in Camelot, stranger things had happened. Readjusting the grip on the hilt of his sword, he knelt and peered inside the gap. Something glittered. Arthur smiled to himself because in that moment he had Merlin back and a chance to tan his backside. He reached into the space and pulled out the circlet. Never trust a fucking raven.

*

‘It still doesn’t explain how the bird opened a locked cabinet,’ Uther said and chucked his empty plate onto the table.

A metal clang echoed around the throne room and Arthur had to wait for it to settle before saying, ‘I now remember that I left it on the table while I spoke to Sir Leon. I then went with him to the armoury and on returning the circlet had gone. I assumed Merlin had locked it away.’ Arthur felt his cheeks colour. He had a lot to remember on a daily basis and sometimes things… slipped. That’s one of the reasons he needed Merlin in his life.

‘Ok.’ Uther rose to leave.

‘And Merlin?’ Arthur ventured.

With his back to his son, Uther said, ‘Release him.’

*

Scratching my head for the umpteen time, I considered how long it took to get rid of lice. Arthur’s rough hands searching my body and his gentle kiss were my next thought and as I re-lived last night, the cell door opened.

‘Arthur!’

He grinned at me. ‘Thanks to a bird, you’re free.’

‘Eh?’

*

Back in Arthur’s chambers and after listening to his raven story, I asked, ‘Is it possible to think harder next time?’

‘I’ll give you harder.’ Arthur growled, threw me onto the bed, whipped off my boots and breeches, and flipped me onto my front. His weight on my back crushed me into the silk sheets and his breath was hot on my neck. ‘Good God, Merlin, I’ve thought of nothing else but fucking you,’ he whispered.

‘And hopefully finding the circlet,’ I mumbled to the bedding.

Arthur slid to my side, ‘And that.’

Twisting to face him, I propped up on my elbow, and grinned. ‘And are you prepared?’

‘Stolen oil from Gaius, leather gloves and rope are all stashed under the pillow.’

By the strong smell of lavender circulating the bed, I guessed he had a long day planned. Glancing at my naked, and wanting, lower half then at a fully clothed Arthur, I said, ‘I seem to be at an advantage.’

Arthur jumped up and struggled with his tunic, tying his arms above his head. Really, a grown man should be able to undress himself. I stood and released him from the fabric. Undoing the belt on his breeches, I slipped them down to his ankles; he stepped out and kicked them under the bed. I’d seen him undressed a thousand times, but never this kind of naked, the kind of naked that is for one purpose only—to fuck. And to fuck me, his servant, Merlin. The thought was wholly delicious and I’d waited a long time for this moment. Arthur took a step towards me, placed his hands on my waist, and tossed me onto the bed. I landed, arse up and legs sprawled. Arthur rearranged my legs, lifted my hips, and straddled me. His excitement was clear by the well-defined pressure on the back of my thigh. An ample size by the feel of it and I didn’t expect anything less from the future king of Camelot. However, I did wonder if I could take him. Lancelot had been the only other one in my life and, just as Percival had told me, he was a nice size for a first timer.  I heard that nobody bent over for poor Percival.

‘Pillow,’ Arthur said and stuffed it under my hips so my higher arse felt colder than my face. ‘Oil.’ He balanced the lilac glass bottle against my nose. ‘Gloves.’ The leather skimmed tantalising across my backside before been hung across my thighs. ‘Rope.’ It appeared in front of my nose. ‘Merlin, what’s the rope for?’

‘Seriously?’

‘Tie your legs together?’

‘Together?’ Maybe the prince wasn’t the shag-ace I believed him to be.

‘Oh, apart. Merlin, you’re disgusting,’ Arthur said and proceeded to tie one end of the rope to my knee and around the bedpost, he pulled tight, slit the rope with his sword, and then did the same with the other leg.

The bed dipped as he climbed on top of me. ‘You’ve never looked so good.’

‘Thank you, Arthur, I think.’ With my bare backside raised to the status of very important and trussed like a spread-eagle turkey, I realised I still had my tunic, jacket, and scarf on. ‘Fancy taking my clothes off?’

‘Oh, no, no, no, you look ravished and that is so very very horny.’

He was right, it was. It was perfect, he was so perfect, and my wide-open position was perfect. All I needed now was my prince. Then the leather struck with a thwack. I jumped impulsively and then trembled with delight. Arthur struck me again, and again, each time with more force, louder grunts from him and shriller squeals from me until my arse felt tight and hot. ‘That I like.’ I heard Arthur mumble before there was a pop of the cork from the glass bottle and a cascade of cold oil poured down every crevice it could find and made me shiver. Then Arthur’s hands, wide, calloused, prising, and probing. And oh, God, did they probe—exploring every detail, every crease, and… every hole, more than once. Then Arthur moved quickly, urgently, he clearly wanted me, and right now. I juddered under him, also impatient, but revelling in the attention.

With his fingers clutching my bony hips, and his thumbs wedged firmly into my arse cheeks, Arthur whispered in my ear, ‘Merlin, our relationship will never be the same again.’ Then he entered me.

All of him.

And he was silent, as if he would never breathe again.

And I was stuffed, filled, and there was nothing else, no bed, no chamber, no citadel, no Camelot, just prince Arthur, only prince Arthur.

As his fingers scored grooves in my flesh, and he thrust deeper, I gripped the sheets as the bedding muffled my wails. Cries of joy, and cries of pain, in a tornado of ecstasy and suffering, I couldn’t distinguish one from another but both were rapturous.

The prince’s strength was never in question, I felt every sinuous muscle in his arms, and thighs before he slumped slightly then built an unforgiving, and seemingly never ending rhythm. I was in the seventh heaven of heavens and I never wanted to come down.

Then Arthur broke his silence and roared like an injured lion and shouted out my name before coming to a jerky halt. He slipped his hands under my tunic to my shoulders gathering the clothing as he went and collapsed onto my back, breathless.

I panted, ‘Thank fuck for the raven, that’s all I can say.’

Arthur knelt up taking me with him into a leg-spread kneeling position. ‘Your turn.’ He reached between my legs with one hand and around my waist with the other and took me to task. His grip was eye watering and breath stealing.

I came quickly, pulsing my hips, and throwing back my head and I could feel the embers of my magic spark, I squeezed my eyes shut, held my breath, clenched my fists and concentrated on keeping them dampened. The very last thing I wanted was a magical fireworks display for the prince.

We both crumpled onto the bed, Arthur tumbled off me and untied my legs. I crawled under the sheets and sighed with contentment. Arthur wriggled in next to me, to my surprise slung his arm around my chest, and rested his head on my shoulder.

Then we heard the cawing.

‘Raven!’ Arthur sat bolt upright.

On the windowsill perched the bird, all bobbing-head, shiny-feathered and a glint in his eye that said he’d watched the whole show. It had in its beak three gold rings all neatly lined up. Before Arthur could move, it flew up and away.

‘Merlin, shut the window,’ he rumbled and elbowed me.

‘Am I your servant once more?’

He pushed me out of his warm bed, said, ‘Absolutely,’ and smiled at me.

 


End file.
